History is Written by the Storytellers
by Malinear
Summary: Varric may have finally met his match when Sigrun ends up in Kirkwall on Warden business.  This is a collection of drabbles and prompt fills that explore the anything but ordinary relationship between the storyteller and the dead girl.
1. Just Another Day in the Deep Roads

_Ok, so this is a collection of my drabbles and prompt fills from various Dragon Age communities on Live Journal. There will be more to come, so after the first four, they will no longer be chronological, but I'll try to give you a rough idea of where future chapters fit into the timeline. I hope you enjoy my little foray into the pairing that needs to be (because seriously? you can't tell me that these two wouldn't be brilliant together)._

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><p><strong>Just Another Day in the Deep Roads<strong>

"You know, I'll bet I've set a record for the longest surviving member of the Legion of the Dead. Most of us don't make it past a few months, maybe a year at best."

"Doesn't that mean you're an utter failure at dying? You'll never be able to show your face in Orzammar again! Oh, wait…"

Sigrun's laughter is bright in the oppressing darkness as she's digging through their packs for rations, "Bunch of puffed up nobles anyway, no offense, iMajesty/i. But it also means I hold the Legion's record for Darkspawn kills as well. Everyone else can only hope to do as well."

The sparks from Elissa's flint finally catch, the tinder crackling to life in the abandoned armory they'd picked for their camp, and she sits back on her heels, watching Rosto dig through a pile of Maker only knew what. "I'm glad you didn't actually manage find your Calling early, Sigrun."

The dwarf is pressing a waterskin into her former commander's hand with a smile, "Not for lack of trying, but me too. Besides, I hear Kirkwall's kind of nice this time of year."


	2. Fate

_Standard fare, the characters obviously belong to Bioware and EA, not me. But if they won't give me some witty dwarf love, I have to do it myself. ;)_**  
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><p><strong>Fate<strong>

"You know you're being stared at, right?"

Sigrun snickered into her drink, her eyes bright over the rim before she set it back on the bar, empty with a sigh, "Now would that be on account of the impressive weaponry, the tattoos or the fact that we've been in Kirkwall for three days and haven't seen a single other female dwarf around?"

The Hero of Fereldan grinned across from her, her amused tone kept low enough so only her companion would hear, "Makes it easier for me. No one notices the runaway queen with you around."

"Always happy to help!" She turned on her stool then to survey the room. They were supposed to meet their contact here soon. Carver had arranged an introduction with the bar's new owner, the beardless dwarf who'd been one of his sister's companions and one of the few who'd witnessed Anders' meltdown who had remained in the city.

It wasn't hard to pick him out of the crowd. Sure, he was the only dwarf without a beard she'd ever seen, but as he came down the flight of stairs across the sea of drunks and spilled ale, his eyes met hers with a curious and amused gleam. He effortlessly managed the assorted patrons who stepped into his path for a word or two, but his eyes kept coming back to them…or rather, to her until he finally made it to their table and sketched a quick bow.

"Ladies, Varric Tethras at your service. Perhaps you'd care to join me upstairs? Most of the fellows here might not remember their names come morning, but I can assure you more privacy from those with stronger constitutions and longer memories.


	3. Time is Short

_This and the next chapter jump about 20 years give or take. After that, any future chapters will take place somewhere in the large gap between Fate and Time is Short.  
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><p><strong>Time is short<strong>

"Sigrun?" Nathaniel had held back from the rest of their group, his goodbyes already said to those who wouldn't be joining them in this last expedition. He watched as the dwarf passed a stack of letters and a handful of coins into the palm of a street urchin, the child's head bobbing as he received his instructions.

"I'm coming, sorry." She gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, he must have been one that regularly ran errands for Varric then, before joining him with a last look back at the Hanged Man with a whisper, "I almost wish I'd never come here, you know?"

He frowned down at the dwarf, incredulous, "Never come? You'd give up…everything you found here?" She'd been one of the happiest people he'd ever known, since they'd first rescued her from the Darkspawn who'd been dragging her through the Deep Roads outside of Amaranthine all those years ago. But he'd never seen her happier than in the years after first meeting Kirkwall's own story teller.

She'd found everything that most normal people could ever wish for- a husband who adored her as much as he did that crossbow of his, a son with her sunny disposition and his father's keen sense of how to handle people, and the ability to just…live the last years of her life as she pleased.

But she wasn't smiling today. The tattooed mask that had signed her death sentence thirty years ago, even before she'd become a Warden, make her cheeks look sunken and hollow, the unmarked skin around them sickly pale. Their Callings had started taking their friends a couple of years ago, Elissa and Alistair going first, united as they'd ever been. Velanna had sent a letter before slinking off on her own last winter. They'd just been waiting for Oghren who'd finally shown up last night, quiet and sober as they'd never seen him before. He'd be waiting now, just outside the city with Carver.

"It would have been easier," her voice was quiet, strained and he was startled to see the tear rolling down her cheek, unchecked. "Before I came here, I never had anything I wasn't willing to leave behind."


	4. Calling

_Chronologically, this is probably the last chapter. At least, I don't have any plans for anything that would take place after it, but it's a very important chapter that directly follows Time is Short._

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><p><strong>Calling<strong>

Varric was pouring himself a pint to steady his nerves as Dom scurried back in through the main entrance of the Hanged Man. The poor kid's eyes went wide, he obviously hadn't expected the dwarf to be up and about so early, and he froze, looking completely unsure of what to do about the stack of letters he'd been stuffing into his jacket.

"Did she tell you not to let me see mine until later?" He knew he'd guessed right when Dom glanced warily back out into the street. Damn her. Poor kid was scared shitless at having to choose between his two benefactors. Little did he know Sigrun wouldn't be sending him on any more errands after today.

He sighed and leaned against the bar, holding out a hand, "C'mon lad, I'm sure you've got other jobs today and I promise I won't let the wife know you gave it to me early." Well, at least that wasn't a lie.

Dom thought about it a moment longer before handing Varric the top letter from the stack. The others didn't concern him, not really. Though he had a pretty good idea who they were for. One for Daisy, one for the Hendyrs, and one for their son. Anyone else who was close enough to her would be with her now.

They hadn't talked about her Calling in a long time. For all the joking she'd done in the two decades they'd spent together about being dead, the closer this day had come, the less she'd wanted it brought up. And so he'd watched. And waited. And while he hadn't expected a big fuss, he'd at least hoped that she'd let him know, in the end, that it was time. That she'd wake him up, let him hold her one more time, to say goodbye and all manner of other sappy things that didn't actually happen in real life.

Leave it to Sigrun though to sneak off just before dawn after a long night of drinking and gambling and tall tales with their friends. Guess that had been a going away party of sorts, as she'd been rather insistent about everyone coming. Damn woman.

Varric eventually unfolded the parchment, and choked on a half-laugh, half-sob as he read her messy scrawl:

_Varric, Love, write me a good, heroic ending, will you?_


End file.
